


your heart beat gets me through

by atlantisairlock



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury Recovery, Marriage Proposal, Serious Injuries, Stitches, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: Lou gets injured on a heist. Debbie gets her shit together.





	your heart beat gets me through

**Author's Note:**

> for **aly+hutchinson** , who asked for: could you maybe write one about lou getting injured in a heist & debbie being really worried? the others realise how much they love each other even though they don’t always show it.
> 
> this fic prominently features one of my personal backstory headcanons for constance, where she went to medical school and trained to be a surgeon for a couple of years but ended up being forced to drop out before doing her residency for familial + financial reasons, accounting for her incredible focus, grace of movement and excellent hand-eye coordination. 
> 
> background amita x constance, daphne x rose, nine ball x tammy.
> 
> title from 'come over' by the 3am.

**irony** : _noun [ u ] ·_ / aɪ.rə.ni / - when you have thirty-eight million dollars in your bank account but you can’t afford to go to the hospital.

 

 

It’s just another typical evening in the Ocean household, with Debbie and Lou out on another small heist while the girls lounge around at home and do whatever they please. Or at least it’s supposed to be, until Tammy comes into the living room with a panicked expression and her phone clutched tight in one hand. “We have a problem.”

Nine Ball takes one look at her and scrambles off the couch to go to her side, taking her hand. “What happened?” 

“Something went wrong with the job. Lou’s injured. According to Debbie, it’s pretty bad, she’s bleeding all over the front seat. They’re coming back here _now.”_

Daphne stares, jaw slack. “What? Why? If she’s that badly injured, she needs to go to the hospital!” 

“They can’t. The job went _bad,_ Daph _._ Debbie is certain that if they hit any hospital in the state right now they’re both going to get arrested, especially considering she already has a record and we’re not out of the woods yet for the crown jewel theft.” Tammy’s teeth are clenched tight, her knuckles white. “Constance, they need you.”

“On it. I’ll get my kit. How long do we have?” 

“Debbie says ETA five minutes,” says Nine Ball, who’s gently pried the phone out of Tammy’s hand and is scrolling through her messages, trying to hide how she’s shaking. Constance’s lips are a thin grim line. “One of you, go and boil water. I need the rest to clear the dining table, and get a pillow or something for her head, then clear the route _to_ the dining table. Get ready to help Debbie carry Lou into the house the moment they arrive. Go!” 

It’s the most coordinated, focused and single-minded they’ve been since the actual Toussaint heist. There is no hesitation, no questioning - they just dash off to do as they’re told to keep one of their own safe.

 

 

Debbie pulls up exactly five minutes later, met by Amita and Nine Ball, who ease Lou out of the seat and into the house as quickly and carefully as they can. She lets out a faint moan of pain when they set her on the dining table, and it isn’t lost on anybody how Debbie’s eyes flare with terror. She darts forward, Lou’s name dropping from her lips unthinkingly, only stopped by Tammy pulling her back. “Let Constance work. Don’t get in the way.” 

Constance doesn’t even acknowledge anyone’s movements, just snaps on her gloves and starts in on Lou immediately, brows furrowed as she does a quick full-body check. “Debbie’s right. It’s not good. Gash on her thigh, cut on her palm, and her shoulder’s dislocated. Not broken, thank god. Doesn’t seem like there’s any internal bleeding either.” She goes for the tweezers and water. “One of you needs to put pressure on the hand wound while I fix up her thigh first. Don’t move her arm any more than you need to. I’ll have to put her shoulder back in last. Be careful.” 

Rose and Daphne both move forward, but Debbie beats them to the punch. “I’ll do it,” she says shortly, shaking Tammy’s hand off her arm. “I’ll do it. Give me the bandage.” She’s got the look in her eyes that says she’ll murder whoever gets in her way that minute with her bare hands, so Daphne just quietly passes her the bandage and lets her press it against the cut on Lou’s palm. Constance nods shortly, then looks to Lou. “Lou? You can hear me? You know who I am, right?”

Lou manages to nod through the pain. “Constance.”

“That’s right. You’ve got a pretty bad cut on your leg, Lou. I’m going to wash it out and get the glass out, then I’m gonna stitch it up. It’s going to hurt a little but it’s the only way to fix you up. You just hang on and power through it, okay? It’s gonna be alright.” Lou nods again, just once, her eyes screwed shut. Constance goes back to work immediately, with Debbie holding on tight to Lou’s hand and everyone else a safe distance away to jump in and help as necessary without obstructing the way. 

It’s agonisingly quiet for fifteen long minutes, everyone not daring to say a single word. The silence is interspersed by Lou’s occasional whimpers of pain and Debbie’s quick gasps of breath and Constance’s huffs of focused effort. It isn’t until Constance reaches for one of the sterilised bandages to wrap around Lou’s thigh that the tension even lets up for a second. 

“Okay, Lou, your leg’s gonna hold for now. Keep it still, no moving, okay? I’m going to do your palm now. Debbie, move.” Constance goes over to where Debbie’s standing, but Debbie doesn’t let go of Lou’s hand. “Debbie, I need you to get out of the way. This one needs stitching too.” 

With tortured reluctance, Debbie lets go, taking the soiled bandage with her and moving a few steps back, the agony written on her face. Her whole body is shaking and she doesn’t take her eyes off Lou for a second, all through Constance’s careful suturing of Lou’s palm. Lou’s eyes stay closed, her jaw steeled and tears leaking down her cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” Constance says soothingly. “Almost done. I’m just going to get your shoulder back in place. I need one of you to come and help me stabilise her arm. Tammy, make sure Debbie stays back.” 

Debbie gets a blessed twenty seconds to wonder exactly why Constance is so specific in her instructions, before Constance and Nine Ball do some arm rotation of sorts with Lou and her shoulder clicks back into place and Lou lets out this scream that rings out over the room and pretty much the whole house. Debbie is throwing herself forward to get to Lou’s side before any rational thought can even kick in, and it takes great effort on Tammy’s part to hold her back. 

The blood is rushing in Debbie’s head and she doesn’t even realise she’s crying until Tammy pulls her into a hug, whispering softly in her ear. Constance’s voice is steady, as calm as she can possibly get it. “Okay, we’re out of the woods,” she says, and even through the professional tone they can all hear the relief. “Anything life-threatening is settled, but she’s not moving off this table tonight. I’ll observe her tonight and tomorrow and make sure the recovery process goes good.” 

A chorus of relieved sighing resounds around the dining room. Daphne practically collapses against Rose’s side, burying her face in her hair. Debbie blinks slowly, staying still. “She’s okay?”

“She will be, now,” says Constance, peeling her gloves off and exhaling evenly. “She’s going to be fine.” 

Debbie makes a sort of noise in the back of her throat, one that tells of relief and guilt and gratitude all at once, and rushes forward to lean over Lou. “Lou,” she says, choked up. “Lou, shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry - “

Lou lets out a reedy sigh, opening her eyes and cracking a very small smile. “I’m okay, baby.”

No one on the team, other than Lou and Tammy, has seen Debbie lose composure like this before, so deeply vulnerable and shaken. She just puts her head down and cries, clinging on tight to Lou’s uninjured hand, and Lou squeezes gently. “Shh, hey. Don’t cry. I’m okay. We’re both okay.” 

There is a growing feeling amongst the others that they are intruding. Constance clears her throat. “We’re good for the night,” she says softly. “Can one of you get Lou some water? The rest can go to sleep. I’ll stay up with her tonight.” 

“I’m staying,” Debbie says firmly. “I’m not leaving her.” 

Lou laughs, quiet and low. “Go the fuck to sleep, Deborah Ocean.” 

In response, Debbie glares back, but it quickly softens into fond worry, her thumb stroking gently against Lou’s hand. “I’m staying here.” 

“Idiot,” says Lou, but doesn’t say no again. 

 

 

Debbie, quite predictably, is still in the dining room the next morning, slumped against the table and drowsing against Lou’s side. Constance moves quietly between the kitchen and the dining table, making herself coffee and light breakfast, the bags under her eyes clearly defined.

Amita’s the first one up, pads downstairs to join Constance in the kitchen. Constance shoves another mug of coffee over, and Amita takes it, hand lingering against Constance’s own. “You stayed up all night?”

“Yeah,” says Constance, sounding exhausted, but managing a playful smirk. “Hippocratic Oath and all that. Lou’s stable, that’s the most important thing.” 

Amita casts her gaze over through the doorway to the dining table, where Lou is still asleep, breaths deep and even, and Debbie still has her head pillowed against Lou’s good shoulder, mouth slightly open. “I’ve known Debbie a while. Until last night, I’ve never seen her so…”

“Fucked up?” Constance offers, sipping from her mug. “It’s _Lou_ lying there, babe. I’m not surprised.” 

“Imagine loving someone that much,” Amita replies, looking thoughtful and a little longing, too. 

Constance gives her a sidelong glance and an atypically soft smile. “I don’t need to imagine.” 

 

 

When Debbie next awakens, the sun is streaming through the windows and Lou isn’t on the table. There is a moment of all-consuming, desperate panic before Nine Ball pops into her field of vision. “Hey, don’t freak. Constance got us to move her to y’all’s bed. It’ll be more comfortable there.” 

Debbie exhales a long breath of relief, and Nine Ball grins at her. “Go to your girl.” 

“Yeah,” says Debbie, taking the stairs two at a time to their bedroom, only relaxing when she opens the door and sees Lou safely laid up on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She looks up when Debbie enters, and gives her a smile - the same one that knocks Debbie dead every single day, blindingly beautiful. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Hey,” she replies, stumbling over so she can get into bed beside Lou, touch her, see her, be close to her. They’ve had close shaves, the two of them, but it’s been a long time since Lou was so badly injured and it brings back memories that Debbie doesn’t want to dredge up. The tears start to spring unbidden to her eyes again. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into another job and I’m sorry I fucked up and you got hurt.” 

Lou gives her a look, cupping her face gently. “Stop that,” she murmurs, eyes narrowed. “You went. I followed. I’ve been following you for years. It’s been more than twenty years, Debbie Ocean. I knew the risks when I first joined you, and I accepted them as part of this. And if I had a choice, I wouldn’t have done anything differently.”

And she means yesterday’s heist, but she also means _everything_ \- the day they met, the day Debbie first asked her to be her partner, the first job they ever ran. Debbie’s heart swells with how much she loves Lou, how much she never wants to see her get hurt again, how much she wants to spend the rest of her life with her. 

“Age is catching up, I think,” she says, instead, tone light and teasing. “Maybe we need to find something new to occupy our time.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lou retorts tartly, but she’s smirking. “What were you thinking of?” 

Debbie runs her fingers very gently against Lou’s thigh, close but not touching the slowly healing stitches. “I don’t know. Wedding planning, maybe. Venue management, flower arrangement, that kind of thing?”

Lou stares at her for five long seconds, and then tosses her head back and laughs. “You know,” she says, when she finally composes herself again. “Most women would have just _asked.”_

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re lying in bed with a messed up leg, we’re ten thousand dollars richer than we were yesterday morning, and I have a criminal record,” Debbie teases. “We’re not most women.” 

“And thank god for that,” Lou replies. “It really took me bleeding all over your car for you to finally work up the courage to make me an honest woman, huh?” 

“You’ve never been an honest woman in your life,” Debbie laughs. Lou accedes to this with a smile, a slight tilt of her head, a gentle kiss. “For you? I’d always make an exception.” 

 

 

_**ONE WEEK LATER, AT BREAKFAST.** _

“Lou?” Constance says.

“Yes, Constance?” Lou replies, looking up from her eggs.

Constance folds her hands together and looks important. “As your doctor - “

Lou raises her eyebrows. “Um…”

“Well, close enough. As your _technically-your-doctor,_ I’m warning you that if you split your stitches because you insisted on having wild sex with Debbie before you are fully recovered, I’m not sewing you back up again.” 

“Oh my god,” says Daphne, looking this close to burying her face in her bowl of oatmeal. Nine Ball gives a snort of laughter. “Jesus, Constance.” 

“I’m serious,” says Constance, in a tone that tries for threatening. “Don’t even try me.” 

“We’ll be good,” says Debbie, attempting very hard to look innocent and mostly failing. 

“We’ll be too busy planning our wedding to do very much of that, anyway,” says Lou, also attempting very hard to look innocent and managing better than Debbie. 

The silence that instantly settles around the room is majestic. Rose’s fork clatters to the floor. Lou looks up from her plate, giving them all a smile that manages to look smug and irreproachable all at once. “Oh, sorry, did we not tell you? Yeah, we’re getting married.” 

They get another five beautiful seconds of stunned silence before the hysterical delighted shocked screaming begins. Debbie grins and leans into Lou and feeds her another bite of breakfast. “Well, while they’re busy flipping the fuck out… more bacon for my fiancee?”


End file.
